


Stray

by vanessa_cardui



Category: Original Work
Genre: Breeding, Captivity, Catboys & Catgirls, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Medical Kink, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 09:46:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13408641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanessa_cardui/pseuds/vanessa_cardui
Summary: Gareth escaped the government collectors when he found himself turning into a catboy, only to spend several hard months living on the streets before being captured by a couple of independent operators.  Now the only thing he can do is put up with whatever they do to him, even as he hates how much his new body loves the treatment.





	Stray

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chicago_ruth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicago_ruth/gifts).



Gareth hated that he was cowering. He'd been a damn fool to eat that burger. A whole burger, with one bite taken out of it, and it was still in a wrapper? It was an obvious trap, and he should've seen it. When he'd started wobbling after eating that, he'd known that it was a trap, so he wasn't even surprised to wake up in a cage. But maybe if he'd been pushing up against the bars of the cage, maybe if he'd pushed against them, he'd have been able to break out.

Instead of that, he was pushing himself back against the back of his cage, unable to move he was so scared every time there was a shadow in front of the cage. . . the transition was terrible, and the way it had made him so scared of everything was the worst part of it.

Through the front of the cage, Gareth could see a narrow hallway. The only light coming in was through a window, somewhere down the hall. Before the transition, it would've been too dark for him to see anything at all. Now, he could see the outlines tiles of the floor, and he could be startled whenever something passed in front of the window, casting a shadow down the hall. It was grainy, black and white, but he could see.

And when the light came on, he was blinded. His ears flattened back, and he hissed, his claws scrabbling against the floor of his cage, as he tried to shake off the explosion of painful light.

Someone laughed. A man's voice, deep. "How long was this one feral?" he asked.

"Two months," answered another man. They stopped in front of his cage, but they were standing up, so Gareth could only see their trousers and shoes; one was wearing a jumpsuit and work boots; the other was wearing slacks and dress shoes, and he could see the bottom of a lab coat.

The one in the coat clicked his tongue. "He could've picked up anything, outside that long."

"Parents tried to call him in, but--"

"But he'd gotten spooked, somehow, and left just before he was supposed to be picked up."

The man in the jumpsuit chuckled. "This one, I think they really did try to get him taken in. He's a clever fella."

Gareth's parents hadn't wanted to believe that he was undergoing the transformation. There were all sorts of ideas about the sort of person who it happened to, and they didn't want to believe that their boy was like that. But once they noticed. . . Gareth had noticed first, and he'd gotten away clean, hours ahead of the unmarked SUVs and people with friendly smiles and tranq darts.

Labcoat sighed. "If you say so. Well, let's get him out and have a look at him."

Gareth's claws scrabbled at the floor of his cage, but they couldn't get any purchase on the slick plastic. A long stick poked into the cage, between the door and the edge of the cage. He batted at it, knocked it away two, three times. But then it got hold of the collar they'd put on him, and latched tight. "Got him," said jumpsuit.

Labcoat unlatched the door, and jumpsuit pulled Gareth out. He tried to resist, tried to stay in the cage, and once he was out, he swung at them, claws extended, hissing, spitting. He couldn't reach them; the pole was too long, and jumpsuit was a lot stronger than he was. Would've been stronger than him before he'd spent two months living on garbage and raw pigeons, but now, it wasn't even a challenge. He moved him where he wanted him to go, and then labcoat got hold of his head, jabbed a hypodermic into the back of his neck.

Gareth tried to keep fighting, but he couldn't--his arms weren't responding, and neither were his legs, and his mouth slid open. But he wasn't unconscious, he wasn't out--

Labcoat smiled down at him. He was a short and looked middle aged, and his smile seemed genuine. He ruffled Gareth at the back of his head, and that felt good; it felt really, shockingly good. "Don't worry, boy," he said. "Just a little muscle relaxant. Get you calmed down a little so that we can check you out." He looked over to jumpsuit. "Lets get him up into the restraints before that wears off. I don't want to spend the rest of the shift wrestling with him."

Jumpsuit started walking down the hallway, pulling Gareth behind, labcoat walking next to him. The floor was clean, and smooth, and Gareth's limbs weren't responding, not at all. He relaxed into it as they dragged him down the hallway, not able to tense. And even the floor against his fur felt good, in a way. It'd been a long time since he'd been touched.

They dragged him down the hallway, and through the door, into a room with scales and a blood pressure machine, and other things like that. Gareth tried to run, and his leg twitched, just a little. It wasn't enough, and didn't matter. Jumpsuit unfastened the stick from the collar, and then lifted him up by the loose skin at the back of his neck, dropping him on the table in the middle of the room. Then jumpsuit and labcoat fastened restraints around his wrists and ankles, attached to the sides of the table.

"Looks like he's coming around," said jumpsuit.

"It'll be a few minutes, yet," said labcoat. He got out a pair of shears from a drawer. "Let's see what we've got here."

It would've been easier without clothing, most of the time. Shoes had been impossible, but with the hood of his sweatshirt up, he'd been able to pass as human, at least from a distance. It had helped a lot. And that sweatshirt and those jeans. . . they were filthy, and they were falling apart, but he'd bought them, when he'd been out to the mall with his friends. They were the last connection he had to those friends, to the mall, to who he'd been.

Labcoat's shears cut the clothing off of him quickly and efficiently. The scraps went into the trash, and then the two of them stepped back to look at him.

"Not bad," said jumpsuit. "He's been keeping clean anyway."

Clean had been sneaking into the school at night and using the gym showers. Because the people tracking ferals used dogs, and dogs followed scent.

Labcoat ran his hand along Gareth's side. "Little underweight, though," he said. "You can feel the ribs. We'll have to feed him up a bit before he's adoptable." His hand moved between Gareth's thighs, and Gareth tried to pull away, tried to say something, to beg him to stop, to get him to--a long, warbling meow came out, as labcoat gently stroked Gareth's balls, the fine fur on them incredibly sensitive. "Well, looks like he hasn't picked up any of the feline STD strains we've been getting, anyway."

"Oh?"

"If I had to guess, hasn't been sexually active at all since the transition."

"And you'd risk--"

"There isn't any risk," said labcoat. One long stroke along Gareth's cock, which left him trembling with fear and humiliation and need, and then labcoat let him go, walked around to the front. "There isn't anything they can get which is contagious to humans. Just one of the reasons why they're so popular."

He scritched Gareth behind the ear, and Gareth couldn't help but lean into that, just a little. His body . . . it responded to things, and he couldn't always control it. It was like that when he was hungry, too, or--

"This is going to hurt a little," said labcoat, and even though Gareth knew what that meant, his eyes were closing, and he could feel his chest rumbling, as he fought back a purr.

Labcoat's fingers moved down to his neck. When he switched from kneading to holding tight, Gareth yowled in protest, and then again, when the needle went in; he tried to turn and snap, but labcoat's hand had tightened in his fur, and he couldn't move his head far enough to do anything about it. He mowed and shuddered, even though it didn't hurt that much, really--he just couldn't control it, any more than he could control anything else, not since the transition.

"So that's why they're so popular?" asked jumpsuit.

"Hm?"

"Because they can't get STDs, I mean."

Labcoat laughed. "You're new here," he said. "I mean, that's part of it. But. . . here, like I said. This fella is a little dehydrated. Try giving him one of those bottles, will you?"

"Sure," said jumpsuit. Then he laughed. "The ones that look like cocks?"

"Exactly," said labcoat. He pulled the needle out of Gareth's shoulder, and wiped at it with gauze. Gareth bit at him, knowing that he wasn't going to actually bite him, but wanting him to keep his distance. When he turned back, jumpsuit was holding a dildo in front of his face.

He hadn't gotten a good look at jumpsuit's face. Big, flat features; he looked a little puzzled at what he was doing, and maybe there was a little bit of sympathy there. Gareth looked up at him, tried to find some way to say something, to let him know that he was still there, that they shouldn't be doing what they were doing. . . and then he was suckling at the dildo.

It hurt a little, when jumpsuit pushed it into the back of his throat, but it was like when labcoat had been rubbing him behind his ears; Gareth tried to fight the purr that was going all the way through him, the way his eyes kept fluttering closed, but he couldn't.

"Huh," said jumpsuit. "He does that with his tongue whenever--"

"Whenever," said labcoat. "Now, we've been getting a lot of requests for gray and white mackerel tabbies, and he seems healthy enough; we'll keep him around as a breeder, at least for a little while."

"Hear that," said jumpsuit, running his fingers behind Gareth's ears, down his neck; his purr got deeper, and his eyes rolled back. It hurt, and it felt good, and there was a trickle of warm water down the back of his throat--it would be better if it were pulses of something hot and acrid. He knew that, and he hated that, but it was. . . "you're going to get to spend some time with some lovely lady cats. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

He would. He didn't want to like that, but he would. Her fur against his, when he was pushing into her, and--

Labcoat laughed. "Not likely. Maybe a backyard breeder might do it like that, but with the gene pool still being a little shallow, we're going to be shipping the sperm cross country."

"Ah well," said jumpsuit, chucking Gareth under his chin, and then tightening his grip, to feel the dildo moving in and out of Gareth's mouth, through his throat and his cheeks. "Still, should be at least a little bit of fun for you."

"Not just for him," said labcoat. "Pay here isn't much, but the benefits are first class. Tell you what; you're new, so you can have the first go."

"First go?"

"Sure," said labcoat. "I'll hook up the collector. See, the prostate is positioned a bit differently than it is with people. And they're a bit cleaner."

"Prost. . . ah," said jumpsuit. "And they can't be contagious."

"Exactly," said labcoat. "May as well leave him that bottle; they find it soothing."

Soothing? It was. . . when jumpsuit let go of the dildo in Gareth's mouth, he pushed it forward, down, so that it was on the table, and he was pushing down on it, sucking hard, for whatever moisture it would give him. There wasn't much, but he was thirsty, and he was frightened and trapped and it was something there, something solid.

Labcoat's hands were on his cock again, there was the feel of skin against the skin of his cock, and against the fur on his balls. Gareth moaned around the cock in his mouth, as his hips started thrusting. He'd been too hungry and too scared, too uncertain of his new body to even jerk off ever since he'd run away, a few hours ahead of the collectors; he was trembling, as labcoat rubbed something cold and slick onto his cock.

"Little bit of a hair-trigger there," said jumpsuit, giving him a hard pat on his side.

"Wait and see," said labcoat

There was a weight on Gareth's cock, which labcoat strapped into place. "There you are," he said, and jumpsuit moved behind him.

Gareth pulled against his restraints, tried to get loose, tried to get away, his tail lashing, ears flat. He knew what was coming, and he didn't want--

Labcoat had come around in front, and unzipped his fly. His cock was half-erect, coming through a thicket of thick black hair. It was the last thing he wanted, but labcoat got hold of Gareth's head, and pulled him in.

He would bite. He could--he couldn't. Gareth's tongue wrapped around labcoat's cock, pulling him in. He blinked away tears, and then closed his eyes, as jumpsuit pushed into his ass.

The cock in his mouth was pulsing into stiffness, moving slow, as the other one forced its way into his ass. It hurt, it hurt, and behind him, jumpsuit groaned, loud.

Labcoat pulled out of Gareth's mouth, and slapped him on the cheek with his wet cock. Gareth wanted to bite it, but instead, he was straining for it, whimpering, as jumpsuit slammed into him. "So. . . good. . ."

Labcoat laughed. "Few bleeding hearts in the government . . . well. One or two sessions, and they were convinced."

"Jesus God," said jumpsuit. "I'm fucking convinced."

He slid most of the way out, and then back in, hard, and Gareth was whining, straining to get labcoat's cock in his mouth, as labcoat smiled down at him, holding just out of reach. The pain from jumpsuit's cock. . . the pain, and something else. The thing that they'd strapped to his cock was there when he pushed against it, but this didn't feel like jerking off; it didn't feel like anything he'd felt before. His claws were stretching, pulling, trying to find something, and even though it hurt and he hated it, he was pushing back against jumpsuit, feeling the cloth against his thighs, the man's hands warm on his hips.

Finally, labcoat stopped teasing him with his cock, let him wrap his lips around it, let him stroke it with his tongue, swallowing it down, tears jolting from him with every thrust in his ass, his tail brushing across jumpsuit's clothing, the metal of his zipper, his skin. Gareth felt everything, more vividly than he had ever felt anything. The pressure and motion in his ass, the taste of skin and precum and--

Gareth whined and jerked as jumpsuit's cock hit him inside, somewhere; there was a sudden pressure, a frantic intensity to the way he was twitching against whatever it was that was strapped to his cock. He came and he came, pulse after pulse.

They didn't stop at that, though, and neither did he. He couldn't, although it was starting to hurt. Labcoat suddenly grabbed his ears, pulled him forward, and then spurted down the back of his throat, acrid and hot and he couldn't breathe, and barely wanted to. And then jumpsuit hit the spot again, harder, and he came again, not as strong as the first time, but still coming, when jumpsuit came inside of him. He felt that, even though that shouldn't have been possible; the man's come shooting up inside of him, up. . . it triggered him again, and the third orgasm was bigger than the first two; he was still jerking and twisting against the thing on his cock as the two men zipped back up; he blacked out, watching labcoat pull his belt closed.

When he came to, he was back on the floor, the pole reattached to his collar.

"Fifteen ml," said labcoat, looking at a test tube. "Good."

"Good," said jumpsuit, sounding a little worn out. "Won't be long before someone adopts a fucker like that one, though."

Labcoat shrugged. "They're fun, no question," he said. "But there isn't that much demand for first generation transmutes like that one. He'll be around for at least a few months, probably longer."

Jumpsuit started dragging him back to his cage. Gareth wanted to struggle, but he couldn't; it was like he'd gotten another, stronger dose of that muscle relaxant. He wanted. . . there were a lot of things that he wanted. It didn't seem to matter much.

"Well," said jumpsuit.

Labcoat laughed. "Like I said, pretty good benefits. But I'd hold off on adopting just yet--there are at least a dozen more of these fellas who you're going to have to round up in the area. And there are always a few who slip by the collectors. No need to settle for the first one you try."

"Makes sense," said jumpsuit.

"What do you want to call him, anyway?" asked labcoat.

They'd gotten back to Gareth's cage. Jumpsuit slid him in, detached the pole from his collar with a flick of his wrist, pulled it out of Gareth's cage. "Well, his name was Gareth," said jumpsuit.

There was a pause, and jumpsuit chuckled. "And he was stealing from two dozen people, maybe more. Had a whole stash of pill bottles, for whatever reason."

Gareth had been trying to find something that would slow it, or maybe reverse it--the government had barely tried, and he was only just starting to understand why.

"How about Bandit?" said jumpsuit, and labcoat chuckled. "Good name," he said. He dropped another one of those dildo shaped bottles into Gareth's cage, before clicking the door shut, and locking it. "There you go, Bandit. For when you get a little thirsty, and a little lonely."

Gareth didn't want it. But he also knew that he'd be sucking on it before long, just as soon as he regained enough strength to crawl over to it. The two men left, the light clicking off behind them. He hated them, and he hated what they were going to do to him the next day. And he hated that he was purring when he thought about it.


End file.
